In 2003 I was Artist in Residence at Isle Royale National Park, in the middle of Lake Superior. The island is 45 miles long, and 2-3 miles at its widest, populated by about 900 moose and 20 wolves.

I lived in a little cabin at one end. There were lots of old summer cabins grandfathered into the park, so old timers would come up and hang out in their little nearby cabins. These two older fellows, Reverend Allen and Chuck B., came to check on me, would invite me over to their mini-island for dinner/drinks, or out for a boat trip to old mines and such. We'd watch the sunset on all the other mini-islands.

Being that it was late June, and we were in this far west jog of the Eastern Time zone, the sunset would last until about 11, with the water changing colors for hours. They invited me to a church service of three and it was the best communion I ever took. They didn't seem to mind that I wasn't Catholic. I thought the islands looked like little fantasy worlds where I might paddle to and never come back, a la the Black Stallion series book, Island Stallion.